Back with you
by si-star-x
Summary: Instead of his soul, Spike is given something else. The gift of time and humanity. Spuffy
1. Second Choice

When Spike had gone to Africa in search of his soul, he had been desperate for something to make Buffy like him. He wanted to be accepted as somebody who _wasn't _merely a monster. He wanted to be seen as somebody capable of loving, caring and spending their life with one person. When he'd tried to take something from her by force, he'd blown all chances of that happening in the life he was currently living. He had tried to kid himself all the way to Africa that it'd been the monster that had raped her, not the Spike he'd grown to be, but deep down inside; he knew it was all of him combined.

In Africa, he had been told the words that he had dreaded: "We cannot return your soul to you, William."

He had wanted to shout, scream, cry... anything to get them to change their minds, but he knew they had the ultimate power and he couldn't cross that.

"However, we can grant you another opportunity..."

Spike had listened intently, hanging on every word that had been said. He could be made human. Human? Why on earth would he want that? Dying at the age of 70, healing normally, no super-speed, no super-strength. But, then there was Buffy. He'd be her first 'normal' boyfriend. They'd be able to have children together! They'd be able to get married in the sunshine and go to the beach. There would be down-points, of course. Her punches would break every bone in his face, most likely. _But that's fine, _he mentally noted _I just bloody well won't give her a reason to hit me._

Just as he was about to accept the offer, there was a catch. _Of course there's going to be a catch! _Spike's mind screamed at him, _You're probably going to have to turn into a hell beast after your time on earth and live through eternal punishment and torture. Bollocks._

"You will have to go back in time, William." They told him, their voices never venturing from the same tone. "You will start highschool at the same time as Buffy."

"Wait!" Spike actually shouted out loud, his eyes full of uncertainty. "Will Buffy remember anything from the future? Will she still _be in _the future? Bloody hell, I'm sorry, but I'm very confused."

"You should wait for me to finish before you ask questions, William. All be be revealed." The demon nodded and pulled out a long scroll of paper, scanning it for information. "This is your life history. You've slain many people in your time as a vampire, but I cann't fault this. You needed to kill to survive. You have attempted to do good in the world since your run-in with those "army" men. I would give you your soul back if I thought it would do good, but this way, William, the whole human world could benefit and not just you. Buffy will still be in the future, of course she will be. It is forever written in the stars that Buffy Anne Summers is to be a slayer. As for whether she will remember everything that has already happened, no. She is returning to the past, just like you, William. Everything is wiped clean. Only you will remember." A pause was taken, indicating that Spike could speak up with any questions that may be swimming around in his head.

If only he would have time to voice them all.

"Is the future the same? Will Buffy fight the same demons?"

This demon chuckled and raised a hand thoughtfully. "That will soon become clear, but yes. Exactly the same future."

_I have the power to change everything that happens. _Spike thought, in awe. "Will I automatically be in her life?"

"This opportunity isn't just about Buffy, William. You have the chance to start a complete fresh. Am I wrong in thinking that you always consider it a nuisance to be so attached to the slayer?"

"Well, yeah, I say that but it wouldn't be the same without her."

"Then, it's up to you, William. You can make what you want out of this opportunity. Just be aware that the things that you do, _everything_ you do can change what you knew as the future. Be careful you don't destroy lives."

With that said, the demon was gone with a flash of light.

Seconds later, Spike collided hard with something that didn't agree with his spine and the world went black around him.


	2. Waking up

As he began to wake from a state which was clearly more on the unconscious side of things rather than sleep, Spike was made aware that his surroundings were very familiar. He was back in his crypt; but it wasn't anything like it was when he had left. It was dusty, practically empty and not to mention cold. He was _freezing! _That was most likely due to his newly gained human state, but he still couldn't believe that he'd endured this cold during the night when he was a vampire.

Out of curiousity, he pressed a finger to his wrist and felt for his pulse. At first he couldn't find it, probably because he didn't exactly make a habit of taking the pulses. It was there though, evidence that blood was once again pulsing through his veins. His stomach was rumbling loudly, more evidence that he was human. Vampires got hungry, but it was usually more a psychological thing than physical. They were aware that they needed to feed before the effects of not having blood came.

The feeling of hunger made Spike suddenly aware of several things; the first being that when the demon said he was starting a complete fresh, it wasn't an exagerration. He had _nothing_. No food, no money, no clothes aside from the ones on his back. Even those were practically tattered ruins by now.

"Bollocks!" He moaned, "This is ridiculous."

Upon speaking, he realised that his voice had changed to be a couple of notches higher than it had been, but it wasn't too bad. Only the sort of thing you notice after having the same voice for longer than a hundred years.

The time was unknown, but the ray of sunlight that filtered through the small crypt window was enough to show that it was daytime. Probably not much past sunrise, as it was fairly weak. _Woah..._ Spike thought to himself _I can go outside. _So, he did just that.

Well, he got as far as sitting up before he had to pause in his plan. "Ow, bloody hell." He hissed as his back complained, sparking pain through his body. That demon hadn't been too gentle when he'd taken him home last night. He recalled being slammed down on his back, but nothing was broken, thank heavens. It'd be sore for a while, probably a while longer than if he was a vampire, but it'd be fine. Obviously he'd also lost some of his pain tolerance when he'd given up being a vampire, as the rise to his to his feet was just about agony.

The sunshine looked strangely appealing. He'd always had to be scared of it, avoiding it at all costs. Spike couldn't remember what it felt like to have the sun on his skin, other than when he'd ended up having to put out the fire on his hands on numerous occasions. It made him smile slightly, knowing that it'd never happen again.

He thought back the day in the camper van when Tara had opened the curtains and sunlight had caught him. That day had left them fighting for their lives, Giles being seriously injured. He made a mental note that if he was ever back in that van, _he _would drive and make sure that he dodged that spear. This made him think of many other people that he could help, hell, he could try and _save _some. Joyce Summers, Tara...

But that would be years ahead. He needed to focus on the future. _Right now, I have bigger fish to fry_. The thought of fish made his stomach complain even further, and he knew he'd have to try and steal some food or something.

He'd probably need to set about finding some sort of job too. He really couldn't live like this for much longer, though he probably would return to the crypt tonight to sleep.

The art gallery!

The thought suddenly sprung on him. Joyce had spoken to him in the past about how they needed some more staff, but nobody was particularly interested in filling the position. So, with that in mind, he would visit the gallery after school and try and find some work.

But first he needed to get to school. Glancing down at his leather jacked, he knew it needed to be lost. There were ragged holes all over the dense material. Shrugging it off, he gladly found that the black shirt he wore beneath it was fairly intact. The jeans were ripped slightly, but he could pretend it was the new fashion. The boots would do too, they were still very wearable.

Without a mirror, Spike couldn't see the extent of the damage to his face. He had gained a few cuts and bruises during his trip to Africa and he could feel that they were still there. His ribs were still aching slightly. The demon who had granted him humanity and time travel clearly hadn't been concerned with healing him first. He'd have to make something up about how he'd gained them; say he got in a fight? Yeah, that would do.

His attention focused back to venturing outside, as he had clearly been sidetracked.

Spike took a few steps forward and had to lean against the sarcophagus (which probably still contained the crypt's occupant) as a wave of dizziness passed over him. He definitely _had _been unconscious.

Before actually heading outside, he walked over to the window and stood in the rays of slightlight. It did nothing but warm his face slightly, though his eyes were quite sensitive to light. Looking outside, he also noticed another thing. His eyesight had returned to how it had been during his human days. He could barely see past the first gravestone outside, and even that he couldn't read.

"Bollocks." He mumbled for the second time since waking. He definitely had his work cut out.


	3. Seeing again

After finally completing the venture into the great outdoors, Spike had to set about finding something to eat. He was actually starting to feel sick from hunger and didn't want to start school with a loudly rumbling stomach as well as looking like he'd lost a fist fight with Mike Tyson.

As he walked along the familiar street that hadn't changed, save for a couple of older paint jobs and signs, he found a $10 note stuffed into the small pocket in his jeans. He obviously hadn't done a thorough search earlier before concluding that he was stranded with nothing. Then again, how long was $10 going to let him live for? One day? Perhaps two if he bought cheap food and rationed. All thoughts of rationing flew out of Spike's mind as approached a bakery.

"I'm so having one of those..." The has-been vampire sighed in pleasure whilst nearly drooling over a slice of cake.

The trip into the bakery store earned him a semi-full stomach and a glance at the time after squinting at it for a quite a while. Whist trying to fathom out the time, he was subsequently holding up the queue and an eldery lady finally nudging him with her shopping trolly to hint he should move. It was just under an hour before school started, but he didn't fancy like heading back to the crypt, or even the cemetary for that matter. It'd be easier to just go to the school now. Spike didn't even want to consider being late - talk about bad impressions.

The school had always been fairly close to his crypt, but there hadn't been much point in going there. Besides, it wasn't exactly standing for a long period of time.

He was more than a little concerned about what to do when he got to the school, as he had no schedule. He wasn't even sure if there was any story told to the Principal as to why he was starting this far into the school year. Hopefully he hadn't been labelled a rebel already. Not like Buffy, burning down a school gym to get transferred.

It was all well and good being thrust back in time to spend high school years with Buffy and the gang, but what if they didn't like him? He sure knew that Xander hadn't liked him even when working alongside the scoobies, so what would be different now? He had to think of a game plan: ways to make Buffy interested in him, ways to win Xander over. Maybe they could become good friends by talking construction? Maybe Xander didn't even like wearing a hard-hat right now. What would he do if Spike told him he'd be working on a construction site for the rest of his days? What if he told him about how he left Anya at the alter? What if he told Willow that she nearly destroyed the world with her magic? The answer was a simple one. He wouldn't be believed, obviously.

Everybody would think him stark raving mad if he said the school was going to be blown up and that a future principal called Synder would be eaten by a giant monster of sorts. If Spike were to tell Buffy that years ahead she would be having sex with him on a nightly basis, he'd be staked for sure, regardless of his human state!

Again, Spike had to remind himself to stop thinking and get walking. The school bell indicating the start of the day was fast approaching.

When the peroxide blonde set his heart to it, it took barely ten minutes to reach the school gates.

As he had walked, there were so many thoughts flashing through his mind that he had trouble controlling them all. The dominating thought of the moment seemed to be a certain Mr. tall dark and forehead. Spike was thinking about how he had the potential to prevent Buffy from falling in love with him only to get hurt. But, then again, if Angel put up a fight then Spike would be nothing short of doomed. There were still demons, vampires, ghosts... all of the bad guys, in this world, he just wasn't one of them anymore. He was going to miss the ability to kick anybody's butt who he so pleases. Anybody except for humans of course.

As Spike started to walk across a path which seemingly let to the main school block, a car caught his eye. Inside were two familiar people. _Very _familiar people. Luckily he was within close range, otherwise his eyesight would have failed him completely.

"Joyce and Buffy..." he whispered to himself, turning around to head back towards them. As he turned, his body collided with another.

"Ow! Watch where you're going!" A girl with blonde hair shreiked.

Spike stood dumbfounded for a minute, frozen in both suprise and a certain degree of fear. "Harmony?"

"Just because you know my name, bleach boy, doesn't mean you can walk into me." The girl said, turning to her friends and giggling. "Move out of my way."

Having no desire for the girl to touch him in any way, Spike stepped aside, even extending his arms in a 'walk this way' gesture. She looked at him in disgust but he chuckled anyway. Now, back to Buffy and her mom...

By the time he turned around, the car had just pulled away, but Buffy was still standing where she had climbed out. As Spike had moved to allow Harmony and her harem past, he was now a slight distance away from Buffy and couldn't quite see what she looked like. From guesses and the quick glance from the car, he knew there wouldn't be many differences. At least he could see that her hair was still long and the same blonde that he'd loved running his fingers through. She soon started walking her way up a small flight of steps, and Spike made to follow. As he stepped forward, he once again collided with somebody; just catching their arm.

"Woah, woah, woah!" The guy exclaimed, nearly toppling over on the skateboard he was riding. "Sorry!"

Then he noticed it was Xander. _Then _he noticed him watching Buffy. In a not-so-friendly way. He kind of looked like he thought she was hot, actually. Spike considered going over and telling him to back off (though the action would be completely unjustified), when Xander slammed into a railing and did actually fall over. Spike considered just bursting out into laughter and perhaps kicking the fallen guy for good measures, but then he remembered that it wouldn't do him any favours in getting into Buffy's good books.

"Careful, mate." Spike chuckled, reaching down to offer the fallen man his hand.

"I was just looking at..." Xander looked back up and noticed the blonde girl had disappeard. He took the tall guy's hand and grunted slightly as he was hauled to his feet. "Never mind. Thanks."

"No problem. Don't make a habit of it though, you'll probably get trampled next time."

"You're, um, English." Xander observed, picking the skateboard up.

Spike nodded and gestured to the school building. "That I am. I've gotta head off though, see you 'round."

Just as Spike left, the bell went. Perfect timing.


	4. First meeting

Spike hadn't been in the building much and struggled to find the principal's office. He had stopped to ask a few students, but none of them seemed to want to give him the time of day and generally thought a weak guesture down a long hallway would suffice before they practically ran away.

"This place needs to be bloody signposted." He muttered on several occasions.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he found the office. Spike was about to walk right in, but through the glass he spotted buffy (or so he presumed, all he could make out was the blonde hair) so he knocked instead.

The door was opened and he was greeted by a friendly face. "You must be William, am I correct?"

_Oh, bollocks. _Spike thought to himself as he shook the hand that was offered to him. _I'm William again_.

"I am indeed. You must be the principal. Nice to meet you."

The man laughed before clapping Spike on the shoulder and ushering him into the room. "Come in. I have another transfer student too, but I might as well get you both done at the same time."

Spike eased himself down onto the spare chair and tried to avoid looking at Buffy. He didn't want her to catch the recognision in his eyes and suspect that something is up - not just yet, anyway.

"This is Miss Buffy Summers," the man said to Spike, "Buffy, this is William. He has just transfered from England."

The ex-vampire turned and quickly nodded at the younger (but still beautiful) Buffy. "Hey." He mumbled, but as soon as he had turned to face her, he turned away.

"Hi." Buffy replied with a tiny smile and a wave. She noticed the bruises on his face and winced in sympathy, hoping that she'd have a chance to ask about them sometime.

"As you know, you're both transfer students. Unfortunately for two very different reasons. Buffy, I don't want to embarrass you in front of William here, but to put it bluntly, you were transferred as the school didn't want anymore buildings burnt down."

Spike couldn't help but snort loudly at this comment and earned himself a hurt glare from Buffy and a stern glance from the principal.

"William, you are here for only marginally better reasons. Your parents recently passed away, for which I am sympathetic, but I am very aware of your track record with the police."

Spike shrugged, acting as though he didn't care but really was just doing it as he had no idea why he had a supposed 'track record'.

"You are both in the same classes and I will be going over your schedules shortly, but I need to fill in a few blanks with you, William. Where are you currently living? Our system has no contact details for you."

"Well, I..." Spike began, not quite sure what do say. "I haven't got any permanent accomodation at the moment. I'm just staying with friends." It wasn't a lie if you considered the spiders in his crypt as friends.


	5. Alone

As the Principal was about to speak again, the phone on his desk began to ring loudly and he picked it up almost automatically. "Hello?" He spoke into the receiver, rubbing his temples after a few seconds. "Yes, I'll be right there."

He turned back to Spike and Buffy with an apologetic look on his face. "I'm very sorry, but there has been an incident. I'm going to have to go." He pulled out a few pieces of paper from his desk drawer and handed one to each of them. "Read though your schedules then make your way to class."

Before the pair had anytime for questions, he had practically ran out of the room.

"That was strange." Buffy concluded, picking up her schedule after unfolding her previously crossed arms. "Is yours the same as mine?"

Spike turned his paper towards her and shrugged. "He said it would be, what do you have first?"

"I have... Math." She groaned in annoyance. "The height of fun, I'm sure."

Spike chuckled, "No doubt about it, pet."

Buffy turned towards him and raised her eyebrows. "My name's Buffy."

"I know, I, uh..." Spike ran a hand over his tousled and messy blonde hair, "Sorry. Bad habit."

"You're English." She stated in much the same way Harris had done earlier that morning, ignoring his previous comment. "I've never liked the English. They wear Tweed and drink tea."

"Excuse me?" Spike chuckled, motioning to his outfit. "In case you haven't noticed, I am Tweed-less. Wait, wait..." he held up his hand before she could speak again. "I might have a tea bag in here somewhere." He began to dig in his pocket, but quickly stopped as he saw her expression change to horror. "I'm kidding!"

Buffy scrunched up her nose and folded her arms once again. "You're not funny, William."

It sounded weird hearing that name come out of her mouth. She'd said it in the past whenever there was a serious issue at hand, but she'd never used it in general conversation. He wasn't going to ask her to called him 'Spike' just yet, he'd wait until they were better acquainted. Buffy seemed different, she was just as beautiful, but there was just something missing. It was probably because she had so much yet to experience in her Slayer duties that she wasn't stressed and wasn't constantly scared. She was just an innocent (as far as Slayers are innocent, anyway) girl.

"You're just bitter 'cause you thought I was actually going to pull out a tea bag." He chuckled at her expression.

"I still don't like the English." She concluded, jumping up out of her chair. "Anyway, we'd better get to class." She stood at the door waiting when he didn't follow. "Are you coming or what?"

Grudgingly, Spike stood up. His back was aching and the comfortable chair seemed like a nice place to spend the rest of his day, but the fact that Buffy wanted him with her and the other fact that the principal would soon be back, he had to go. "Yeah, I'm coming." He replied with a smile.


	6. Employment prospects

It had been possibly the longest day Spike had ever had the misfortune of experiencing. After their little exchange in the principals office - which left much to be desired, Buffy didn't speak to him for the rest of the day. He had stalked her for a while, however, and knew that she was going to the Bronze tonight. The thought of alcohol made him wonder; would he still have a high tolerance for alcohol or would two swigs of bourbon have him with his head over the toilet the next morning? Would he even _like _that particular drink anymore? As a vampire, it had only became his favourite non-blood beverage due to it's strong taste which just about tickled his tastebuds. There was $6 left in his pocket, and that'd just about cover a drink. He figured he'd make friends in an attempt to get some free rounds. Perhaps he would just stay sober? Buffy would probably like him better that way. Less likely to let anything suspicious slip.

Before he could even consider heading off to join the party at to the popular club, he had to go to the gallery and find Joyce. It was just past three o'clock in the afternoon when he'd left the school building, so there would be plently of time to get there before it closed. Spike had never actually been in the small art gallery before, but he had followed Joyce there a couple of times just to make sure she got there in good health. Obviously she didn't know, and Buffy certainly didn't either. It wasn't far from the school, a ten or fifteen minute walk at the most. Spike made the walk ten minutes and was glad that he actually had a decent pace left. Just out of curiousity, he actually wanted to get in a fight; just to see how badly his ass would get kicked and if he could so much as lay a punch on a vampire or demon before getting crushed. He decided that it would probably be safer sticking to fighting humans of the same height and weight first, but all thoughts were pushed out of his mind as he approached the gallery and pushed the door open.

Joyce Summers was automatically at his side, her friendly smile making his heart skip a beat. He couldn't believe she had been gone in his previous life.

"Hello!" She greeted, still smiling. "Welcome to Sunnydale Art Gallery. Are you here to look around?"

Spike almost couldn't bear turning her down, as it always seemed as though the gallery didn't quite kick off with visitors. "Actually, Ma'am," he started, trying to sound as polite as possible, "I'm looking for a job."

Her face fell slightly, but it soon picked up when she headed to the reception desk and stood beside it. "Oh! Well, we have been looking for staff for a while."

Spike gave her a smile which made his bruises twinge and the small cut above his cheekbone pull. "I don't know much about art, but I have some good muscles on me."

To this, Joyce laughed. "Muscles are always good. When are you looking to work? Full or part-time?"

"After school and on weekends would be preferable." Spike nodded, trying not to slouch against the counter.

"Do you go to Sunnydale?" The younger Joyce asked whilst skimming through a pile of papers. "My daughter goes there. Buffy Summers."

"I do go to Sunnydale, yes. I've met your daughter too. She seems like a very nice girl."

Finally, Joyce found the correct piece of paperwork and pulled it out. "Aha!" She exclaimed, smiling again. "We have a lot of work that can be done - cleaning, maintenence, tours? You can pick."

The idea of doing tours sounded like it would be the easiest, just walk around for a couple of hours and blab on about a couple of dodgy paintings. "I think I'll stick to cleaning or something of that sort. As I said, I'm not good with art and I'd probably scare some of your visitors away." He meant it as a joke, but Joyce nodded. He _was _a little offended, but chuckled anyway. "You're not supposed to agree with me." He added with a wink.

Joyce suddenly looked embarrassed and clamped a hand over her mouth. "I didn't mean it like that. You are a very attractive young man, but what happened to your face? Did you get in a fight?"

"Yeah," Spike shifted uncomfortably, "Does it look bad?"

"It definitely looks like you need some stitches. What did you say your name was again?"

"I didn't," The ex-vampire smiled slightly, "But it's Spike."

"Oh, well, no wonder you got yourself in a fight with a name like that." The woman smiled, "Do you want me to take a look at those cuts for you?"

He was going to decline, but nodded anyway. "Yeah, thanks."

She lead him into what he presumed to be the staffroom. It was small, but cosy. There was an old sofa in one corner with a kitchen area in the other.

"Didn't you go to the hospital with this, Spike?" Joyce asked as she pulled open a first aid box and laid the necessary materials out in front of her.

The bleached-blonde eyed the peroxide carefully as she poured a splash onto a gauze pad and carefully pressed it against his wounds. "Ow!" he hissed, though not moving. "No."

"I'm not going to attempt to stitch this up, as I'm clearly not qualified. But, however, I do recommend you see a doctor or something." She smiled and blushed, "Sorry for mothering, but you know us mothers..."

Spike chuckled and nodded. "Don't worry about it. Thanks for the clean up, I'll be as good as new in no time." As a vampire, that literally meant 'no time', as it'd be healed the next time anybody saw him, but now he knew it would probably even leave a scar.

"I'm putting you down for maintence and cleaning, Spike. Is that OK?" Joyce asked as they headed back out into the foyer. "The pay's not great, I'll admit, but it's enough to get you by."

He nodded and didn't even question the pay any further - anything was fine by him. "Can I start tomorrow?"

"Of course you can." Joyce nodded, "Come by after school and I'll sort out some sort of rota for you."

"Goodbye, Joyce." Spike said softly as he left.

As Buffy's mother watched his retreating back, she had to think back to whether she had actually told him her name.


	7. Close encounters

Spike couldn't quite believe that he actually had a job. A normal, human, definitely legal job. He hadn't had a job since... hell, he had _never _had a job. A slight smile was seemingly locked to his lips and he had the urge to whistle as he walked back up the road he had walked down just a short while ago. Unfortunately, he didn't get very far before a pair of hands shot out of a shadow-filled alley and yanked him in.

"Bloody hell!" He yelped, hitting a cold stone wall heavily after being flung against it. Assuming it to be somebody intending to steal his wallet, Spike reacted the way he knew best and threw several punches. He hadn't actually seen the attacker yet, but it didn't matter as his fist connected. Strangely, the assailant didn't retaliate. Raising his line of vision, the last person he would have ever expected came into view. "Angel?"

The vampire's mouth quirked up into a smirk and he nodded. "Still remember me, huh, Spike?"

Thoughts began flooding Spike's mind as he began to wonder what was going on. "Angel." He repeated again. "What're you...?" He shook his head, not quite sure of what he should be asking.

"I should be asking you the same question, don't you think?"

Spike shrugged his shoulders and pressed his back against the wall more casually. "Did you want something?"

A bitter laugh came from Angel and he nodded. "As a matter of fact, yes. I did want something. My contacts told me -"

"Contacts? I didn't know you needed corrective eyewear, mate." Spike chuckled, really close to a line he definitely shouldn't be crossing. The vampire could easily pound him. Speaking of contacts seemed only to make _his _eyesight worse too.

"Shut up, Spike." Angel hissed, rolling his eyes. "I know all about what happened to you. You were sent back from the future, yadda yadda."

"Yeah." He agreed slowly. "So?"

"So..." Angel sighed, almost as though the guy should already know what he wanted, "I want you to tell me things."

"About?"

"About the future. What happens to me?"

Spike laughed, folding his arms across his chest. "I'm not telling you anything, mate."

Faster than the speed of light, Angel had his arm across Spike's throat. "You're in no position," He began, pressing harder, "to refuse me information."

The ex-vampire spluttered slightly, unable to recall the last time he'd felt this way; starved of oxygen. He tried to speak, but it was impossible.

"Feeling more... willing?" Angel asked, reducing the pressure slightly. "Tell me about The Slayer."

"The Slayer?" Spike repeated, rubbing his throat lightly. "Why?"

"I came here to give her something. Do you know about the Harvest?"

Spike shrugged. "No?"

"I need to warn her."

"She's in danger?" Spike asks, his voice suddenly filled with deep concern. Realisation kicks in after a moment and the concern edges away. "Well, you must've done a good job, 'cause she doesn't die."

"Oh." Angel smiled slightly, "Well, that's good to hear."

"Yeah."

"Are you going to tell me?"

"Tell you what?"

"About, y'know, me? In the future?"

Spike remains silent, thinking about what he should say. "Well, you have a soul, right, mate?"

"Yeah?" Angel replies, not quite sure where he's going with it.

"You lose it. You turn evil. You hang out with me and Dru, oh, yeah... you _steal _Dru from me."

"What?" Angel laughed, eyebrows raising. "Why would I want Dru? She's cra-" Spike sends him a glare, so he stops mid-sentence and smiles. "She's yours. Why would I want her?"

"The same reason you wanted The Slayer, probably." Spike shrugged. "If you'd excuse me, I'd like to leave."

Whilst Angel was in a state of confusion and disbelief, Spike ducked out of Angel's way and ran back into the fading sunlight.


	8. Woman to woman

As Buffy pulled on a clean shirt, her thoughts drifted back to the guy she had met that day. He wasn't particularly attractive - certainly not by her standards anyway, but there was something about him that caught her attention. It was probably just his dodgy bleached blond hair that was slicked back in a style that _so_ didn't belong in the 20th Century. The hair and those awful black jeans, boots and t-shirt. Thinking back, however, the shirt _was_ very tight and did show off his phys- 'no!' Buffy shouted at herself mentally. 'Bad Buffy. Do not think of him that way. He has a bad track record with the police and emotional baggage'. She sighed deeply and looked at herself in a mirror, pouting slightly. Lipgloss was definitely needed.

As she reached for her make-up bag, a voice called from downstairs.

"Buffy!"

It was her Mom, who had obviously just arrived home from work.

"Can you come downstairs for a moment? I want to talk to you about something!"

Although Buffy was keen to remain evasive of the law and her Slayer duties, she almost always did as her Mom asked. Only a few seconds later, she was at the bottom of the stairs with a smile on her face.

"Hi, Mom." She greeted. "Good day at work?"

"It started off slow," The older woman replied, shrugging off her jacket and hanging it up loosely on a coat peg. "I have a new maintence guy."

"Oh?" Buffy asked, leaning against the wooden banister. "Boyfriend material, possibly?" She was hinting at boyfriend material for her Mother, but she took it the other way.

"For you, maybe." She laughed softly, heading into the kitchen. "He's about your age and said he goes to Sunnydale."

"Oh?" Buffy followed her Mother, sitting down on a chair in the kitchen, where she had came to a halt.

"His name was Spike. Maybe you know him? He had some terrible bruises on his face - can you believe that I even had to get out my first-aid kit? I think he got into a fight or something."

Buffy thought for a few moments before speaking. "He didn't happen to have blonde hair and terrible fashion sense, did he?"

Joyce laughed, looking down at her daughter. "I don't think you're one to talk, but yes, he did have blonde hair."

"Just transferred to Sunnydale today, if he's who I think he is." She nodded. "When's he working?"

"He's coming in tomorrow evening." Joyce paused and took a seat opposite Buffy. "Look, Buffy, if you are actually considering him as a boyfriend, I don't think I'd approve. He's a little too rough for you. You need a nice, sweet boy."

"Don't worry, Mom." Buffy laughed, reaching over to take her Mother's hand. "There's absolutely no chance. He's definitely _not _my type."


	9. The Bronze

"Listen, mate," Spike spoke with a cigarette dangling between his lips, "I couldn't even find the beginning to my story."

He was sitting at the bar with both elbows propped up on the cool surface and his gaze locked on a guy he had never seen before.

"I don' even 'av' a story." The guy slurred, clearly on the verge of intoxication. "Jus' livin' to get _wasted_."

With his last word, he tipped to the side and almost fell off the bar stool.

"Watch it!" Spike exclaimed, reaching forward to stop the guy falling. "Maybe you should head home."

"Home?" The stranger repeated slowly, confusion edging over his features.

"Y'know, where you go to lay your head to rest? Where your heart is? That place."

"Oh. Yeah. 'k." The guy stood up. "Bye."

"Cheers for the smoke." Spike smiled, raising his hand in a weak attempt at a wave.

_Cheers for the wallet too, mate. _Spike thought to himself, grinning. Of course he had an ulterior motive for stopping the guy falling on his arse.

Just as he was about to order some booze, a familiar face stepped into the Bronze.

_Buff__y._

He really needed to make a better second impression.

She was with Xander and Willow, all of them laughing and all looking very well indeed. Buffy in particular looked amazing. So this was what she used to be like. It may sound silly to say, but she really did look as though the weight of the world was no longer on her shoulders. She was just at a bar, out to enjoy herself. Apparently she had this 'Harvest' to worry about, but she would be fine. Always was.

Despite the initial feeling of wanting to dash over to the Slayer, pull her away from her friends and steal her company for the evening, he didn't want to scare her. It still wasn't quite clicking that she actually had no prior knowledge of who he was. Spike could explain his connections, state that he is from the future, but as earlier considered… she really, _really _wouldn't believe him.

-

"Have you started your homework for English class?" Willow asked Buffy worriedly, scanning the building for somewhere to sit. "I had a look at it tonight, but there were too many words and you know me… all I want to do is party!"

"No." Buffy laughed, spotting a table and dashing over. "Maybe we can ponder over a nice glass of bubbly alcohol?"

"If we were legal, sure." Xander sighed, taking a seat and pulling out his wallet. "Three soda pops, Buff. Your round, my money."

"Okay." She nodded happily, taking the money and heading towards the bar. "Don't have too much fun without me." She shot back over her shoulder at the laughing pair she left behind.

Oh how she loved those two.

-

_She's coming over here. With… money? Oh, god, she's just buying drinks. Pro'ly hasn't even seen me. __Take a deep breath, Spike. Take a deep breath. One that you can actually take. Woah._

"I'll have a bourbon, mate." He spoke to the bartender, waving a note.

"Uh… I'm sorry, but we don't serve that." The young guy behind the bar replied, turning to look at the many bottles that rested behind him.

"Oh, right." Spike shrugged. "Jack Daniels then, please."

"Do you have I.D.?" The guy asked nervously, obviously a little intimidated by Spike's bruised appearance.

_Bollocks._

"No, er, I'll just have cola." Spike chuckled, embarrassed but amused at the same time. _That_ had never happened before.

"Cola, sure. That'll be…"

He didn't quite hear what else the guy said, as Buffy stepped forward as if in slow motion. Her hair seemed to flick around her and she was lit up by the lights.

"Hey." He spoke softly, trying to catch her attention. "Buffy, right?"

She turned to look at him and smiled brightly, though not the intimate smiles he'd experienced before, it was more of a generic, I'll-smile-but-I-am-not-really-happy smile.

"Oh, Spike!" She exclaimed, nodding. "Hey!"


End file.
